What Is Broken
by flightshep
Summary: The League had just welcomed their newest member, and Katarina wasn't about to let them get away with ignoring their past.


Katarina had never expected to see Noxus' poster child again. Not since news of the Coeur Valley Ambush reached the home front, all those years ago. Given the company she kept in the League, the undead was not a concept she was unfamiliar with. Yet, when Riven appeared as their newest member, without sparing her so much as a single glance, she was incredulous. She didn't know what to make of Riven's silent reception, only that, given their past, she'd deserved more. She'd deserved answers.

Riven's trail led Katarina deep into the forest that lined the Institute's outskirts. She marched briskly across the clearing, until her shadow loomed dangerously over Riven's sleeping figure. The steady rise and fall of Riven's chest would have cried vulnerability to any unseasoned assassin, but Katarina knew her old friend better than that. The broken sword was propped against a large tree beside Riven, its runic steel glowing green, dimly complimenting the forest around them. Never out of arm's reach, Katarina knew the sword would remain untouched as long as she kept her own blades holstered.

"Exile."

Riven's response was not immediate, but not so late that Katarina had to repeat herself. "What do you want, Kat?"

The casual use of her name struck Katarina by surprise, and the ephemeral smirk on Riven's chapped lips was enough indication that it had shown. It angered her how Riven could still use her moniker so informally, as if the bridges time had burned could be rebuilt by a simple trade of familiarity.

Katarina forced a sneer, unwilling to give Riven the satisfaction, as she fingered the hilt of the dagger holstered at her waist. "What could I possibly want from a traitor apart from her life?"

Riven's look hardened, yet it lacked the ferocity it would have had if she believed Katarina's words to be true.

"I still fight for Noxus. I am not a traitor," she replied, almost tiredly, before she pushed herself up off the ground.

Katarina had moved close. So close that when Riven stood, she could feel the exile's warm breath on her own lips.

"What do you _really_ want, Kat?" Riven asked again, voice raspy from disuse.

One hard shove from the assassin had Riven's back up against the tree trunk. The next had Katarina wondering why she'd not opted for the cold steel of a sharpened dagger instead as she closed her fingers around Riven's neck.

Katarina knotted her other hand in Riven's cloak, the strength of her grip threatening to tear fabric. What was once a proudly worn Noxian uniform had been reduced to tattered rags, stained with more of Riven's own blood than that of others. It was more than shameful, by Noxian standards.

"Do you see what you've become, exile?!" Katarina spat, disgusted at how low Riven had fallen, and at her unwillingness to become great again. Understanding eluded her, and still her demand for answers went as ignored as her bruising hold on Riven's neck. "You desert Noxus, for what? To live like the dirt we rightfully tread upon?"

Riven remained unflinching at the aggression, and Katarina's blood boiled. However low Riven may have fallen, it was apparent she was still beyond answering to demands. Had she not been so furious, Katarina might have been a little bit proud.

Katarina was surprised a second time when Riven took her chin between her fingers and drew her in closer. It brought back memories of a touch she'd never been able to erase, even after having bedded multitudes of nameless partners. Riven's skin was rough, but her touch was gentle; a weakness Katarina could only attribute to years of living on Ionian soil.

"How many times do I have to say it?" Riven growled. "I still fight for Noxus, but the one you serve is a lie."

Katarina's hand tightened around Riven's throat at the insult, threatening to crush it beneath her fingers. She waited for some sort of retaliation, only to have Riven trace the scar that marked her left eye. The promise of a slow and painful death in Katarina's fierce glare went ignored.

"But this isn't about Noxus, is it, Katarina?" Riven asked, inching closer with every word.

Katarina's teeth bared in a snarl, but before she could respond, Riven kissed her hard, taking full advantage of her parted lips. The taste of Riven struck a nostalgic nerve, leaving Katarina to wonder exactly how much the ex-Noxian had changed. Not so much her notions, but her touch… Would there be passion behind every stroke, like old times?

Though Katarina had came in search of answers, her confidence in her abilities always allowed room for fun. Breathlessly, she parted her teeth to allow it, and either Riven was more demanding than she'd remembered, or she had gotten too accustomed to Fleet Street's watered-down whores.

She felt Riven smirk against her lips, and she wondered what had brought about such mirth in the exile… until a faint moan escaped her. It was a sound she'd often elicited from others, but deemed weak and ill-suited for one such as herself.

Katarina tried to pull away, but a firm hand held her in place. Furious, she bit down hard on Riven's still upturned lip, tasting blood.

Once Riven was distracted by the stinging pain, Katarina nailed a forceful punch between her ribs. Riven hunched, her knees weak and barely holding, before her feet were swept out from under her. Her back met the uneven ground and Katarina straddled her above the fractal of roots.

"We're done here, exile," Katarina snarled.

Blood had begun to trickle from Riven's lips, but she made no effort to wipe it away. The sight was distracting, commanding Katarina's attention, and she startled at the tug below her navel.

In one swift movement, Riven pulled one of Katarina's throwing knives free and placed it in the Sinister Blade's hand. She brought the blade up against her own neck. "Then finish what you came for, assassin."

Katarina was too confused to protest, letting Riven's hands guide her blade. The razor sharp steel glided along Riven's skin. It parted the flesh easily, staining her white hair with blood. Then, for once in her life, Katarina forced her blade back.

Riven did not need to repeat her question when she locked eyes with Katarina. It was clear she'd seen through the patriotic charade.

Katarina looked from Riven's wound to the bloodied knife in her hand. Blood for Noxus was what she lived for, yet there was no satisfaction to be felt as the traitor lay at the mercy of her Noxian blade. Riven had betrayed more than just Noxus, and Katarina couldn't let duty cheat her of the answers she deserved.

"Was there nothing?" Katarina asked, voice suppressed and deliberate to keep emotion from lacing in. "Nothing at all in Noxus that was worth staying for?"

Riven didn't answer. Instead, she grasped the leather material of Katarina's jacket-corset hybrid and pulled, hissing when the blades strapped along Katarina's belt dug into her abdomen.

Katarina hummed as Riven kissed her roughly, lips wet with blood. The kiss was searing. Each firm press of Riven's tongue was a wordless apology, and Katarina, although reluctant to forgive, was not so hesitant to drink it all in. It pleased her, that Riven had not lost her touch as a lover. A hand tangled painfully with her locks and another pulled at her buckle. Her knives fell loosely from her waist when the clasp came undone, and Riven tossed the heavy strap aside.

"There may have been," Riven admitted.

"_Hngh!_" Katarina gasped when Riven stroked once, twice, between her thighs. She hated how wet she was against Riven's fingers, and how readily she still responded after so many years, even more so than the helpless moans she could hardly believe were her own.

"What about you?" Riven snarled, tugging at the fiery red hair and pulling her down close. "Is there nothing worth leaving for?"

Before Katarina could answer, teeth dug into her neck hard enough to break skin, and it wasn't long before her breathing came as fast as the push of Riven's fingers. Riven was rougher than she used to be, but still Katarina's body translated each merciless curl from pain to an unrivaled pleasure.

Katarina matched Riven's rhythm with the fluid movement of her hips, but soon found it hard to keep up. She was begging, she realized, repeating Riven's name over and over through trembling lips. And it worked.

She came hard with a cry, grinding down against Riven's still-moving hand until pleasure gradually drained from her body. Riven's eyes were on her, wistful and studious, as the unanswered question hung heavily in the air between them. Whatever it was that Riven had found, or perhaps had _not _found, darkened her expression with disappointment.

Katarina's muscles had yet to regain their strength when Riven manoeuvred herself wordlessly to her feet and retrieved her broken sword. Though Riven's neck and abdomen were smeared with blood, in close proximity Katarina could make out the copious scars that littered her skin. Her body was as broken as the black stone sword she wielded, yet it was Riven who stood with enviable conviction and Katarina who kneeled before her.

Katarina was still on her knees when Riven turned her back and walked away. And suddenly, it was like she was seventeen again, saying farewell to the greatest mentor she'd ever known.

After so many years, she still didn't follow.


End file.
